


Home is Where the Haunt Is

by GirlGamer1001



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlGamer1001/pseuds/GirlGamer1001
Summary: Who says the halves of a broken soul always have to be fighting? Who says they can't be friends?Who says they can't befamily?-Or: There is not enough wholesome platonic Snatcher and Moonjumper content in this fandom. This fic is a self-indulgent remedy for that.
Relationships: Moonjumper & Snatcher (A Hat in Time)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	1. Are You Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One life ends. Two afterlives begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.
> 
> So this chapter is (currently) the only reason for the Major Character Death warning, but luckily I know my limits and didn't make it anything super violent or gory (at least, I don't think I did). Hope you enjoy.

_Run._

_Escape!_

_Hide._

_Fight!_

_She's gonna hurt you again._

_She'll never hurt you again!_

_She hates you._

_You hate her!_

_You can't fight her._

_You can beat her!_

_You have to run._

_You have to fight!_

His thoughts were so conflicting. It was as if there were two people in his head, talking and shouting over each other, trying to convince him to do completely different things. It almost made him laugh. He never thought he'd spend the last moments of his life arguing with himself.

Of course, he never thought the last moments of his life would be spent shackled to the iced-over wall of a basement, either. Funny how things turn out sometimes.

How long had he been down here? Two weeks? Three? He'd lost track of time when the only sunlight in the room had stopped shining in from just around the corner. That was when it got cold.

So cold.

She was probably keeping him alive on purpose, the sadistic witch. There was little doubt in his mind that everyone else was dead by now. She'd likely altered her magic to not affect him as much.

But why? Did... Did some part of her, deep down inside, still love him?

_No. She doesn't._

_She never did._

Whatever the reason, the cold was still taking its toll on him. That, or his skin was just turning blue for no reason. He'd lost feeling in his arms not long ago. His legs had followed soon after. Now there was a freezing pain in his body, slowly making its way towards his heart.

He sighed, voice hoarse and dry. He knew what was going to happen next.

He shut his eyes, head hanging, resigning himself to his fate. He felt sleep begin to overtake him, and he didn't fight it. He was exhausted, had been for quite some time now, and honestly, he'd rather not be awake for this.

A single tear dripped from one eye, the last of many that he'd shed since she locked him down here. Still, he couldn't help but feel a sort of peace wash over him.

_Regardless of where my soul goes..._

_At least I won't be suffering down here._

* * *

There was a ripping sound, like paper being torn, and the spectral figure resembling the last Prince of Subcon split in two. In its place were two slightly smaller, but otherwise almost identical spirits - one a deep purple with glowing yellow eyes, the other blue and dressed in a red coat. Both beings fell to the floor, just a few feet apart from each other, groaning slightly from the pain.

"Peck..." the darker one growled as he sat up, rubbing his head.

"Language..." the lighter scolded, getting to his knees.

The two spirits froze at the familiar voices. Golden eyes met scarlet ones, mouths agape as they took in the sights before them. Neither could believe what he was seeing: an exact copy of himself, save for a difference in color. They remained like that for a few long moments, the cellar silent except for the sound of water dripping somewhere.

The purple spirit was the first to speak. "What the..."

The blue one blinked, his head tilting slightly. "Are you... Are you me?"

"No... No, I-I'm me!" the first protested. "Y-you're some kind of imposter!"

"What? No, _I'm_ me! If anything, you're the imposter!"

"Yeah, right! That's exactly what an imposter would say!"

Both ghosts got to their feet, fully prepared to fight and prove who the imposter truly was, but something beside them made them pause. They turned to the wall - though part of them both already knew and dreaded what they would see - and gasped in both shock and fear.

A frozen body - _My body,_ they realized simultaneously - was against the wall, hanging limply from shackles around his wrists. Various clamps kept his arms pinned above his head, and chains across his torso bound him to the wall. Parts of his clothes and skin were coated in a thin layer of ice, the flesh blue and frostbitten just beneath it. If one looked closely, you could see the trails of tears on his face, as if he had died crying.

The blue specter's own eyes were brimming with tears, hands clamped over his mouth in an attempt to stop the sob that wanted to escape his throat. The darker just stared, speechless, then looked down at his hands.

They were dark violet, featureless, just like the rest of him. His fingers almost looked like claws. He wasn't human anymore. He was only a shadow, a vague memory of something that once was, something he no longer would be.

"I'm dead..." he whispered with finality. "I... I _died_."

Both spirits looked at each other, uncertain of what to do. Their silent debate, however, was abruptly cut short by a haunting, distorted voice from the floor above - a voice that shot waves of anger, sadness, betrayal, and fear through both of them all at the same time.

"M̷̶y͘͢ ̕͟P̧͡r̶̢i̷n͞c̸̛ę̕?̧̨ ̵̡W̴͢h̶̛o͏̕ ̛͝a͘͞r̵͜ę͢ ̨͜y̡͟o̢̨ų̴ ̡͝t̵͜a̕͏l͘͞k̢͠i̴͠n̶͠g̴̡ ̢͡t͏̕o̵͜?̧"

" _Vanessa_ ," the two phantoms confirmed - one with rage, the other with terror. The purple ghost promptly gritted his teeth, ready to stand his ground and face her. He'd show her. He couldn't do anything while he was chained up like that, but now he was free, and he would make her _pay_ for this. He rolled up a nonexistent sleeve, about to stomp towards the stairs and meet her at the bottom-

But a tug on his wrist stopped him.

He turned to his blue dopplegänger, glaring, but the lighter apparition remained unfazed. His only fear was the queen. "We can't stay here," he pleaded, hoping that his darker counterpart would see the danger they were in. "We need to leave. She'll kill us. We have to go."

"We're already dead, idiot!" the shadow wanted to say, but something kept him from doing so. Maybe it was the panicked expression on the other ghost's face - a face that, on some level, was still his. Maybe it was the confusion over this whole situation, over how this blue spirit was somehow _him_ , yet _not him_ , because _he_ was _himself_ and-

The creaking of a door snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realized that maybe it was the pinpricks of fear stabbing his own heart that made him nod and say, "Okay. Yeah. Answers now, vengeance later."

The ghosts ran to the back entrance of the cellar, shoving it open with strength they didn't know they had. The world outside was engulfed in an unearthly blizzard, one that would undoubtedly kill anything that dared to try and survive it. They raced around the front of the manor and up the path leading into town, both already dreading whatever they would find there, yet determined to stay as far away from _her_ as possible.

Neither of them noticed that they didn't leave footprints in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, death in the first chapter, what a way to start. It could actually probably pass for a minor character death, but considering how Snatcher and Moonjumper are the main characters, and they're both technically the Prince, and this is how the fic opens, I think it sorta counts.
> 
> Sorry if the next chapter doesn't pop up for a while. I get _bad_ cases of writer's block. Stay tuned!


	2. Ice Spikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The village is frozen, but something still moves in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE NOTE: I have no idea how to write relationships, least of all one like Vanessa's and the Prince's, so I may end up taking inspiration from a few other stories to convey the postmortem feelings Snatcher and Moonjumper have towards her. Don't fear, I have a clear idea of where they'll both end up, and neither of them go the way of heartbroken pining sadboy desperately trying to win her back. Just be warned; there will be the occasional moment of "this is all my fault" until then, but I'll try to write it as delicately as I can.

The village was in bad shape.

Actually, saying that would be an understatement. The village was practically in ruins. The streets, once lively and bustling with activity, were now hauntingly silent. The houses were dark, no signs of life stirring within them. Huge, jagged spikes of ice shot out of the ground, breaking through the carefully-set stone paths and jutting out of windows and doors. In some places the spikes had completely destroyed the buildings, leaving nothing but rubble.

Most terrifying of all, however, were the many frozen figures dotting the otherwise empty streets. Men, women, and children alike, all encased so perfectly in ice that at first glance you'd think they were simply sculptures. Most wore expressions of fear, their arms held up as if they were protecting themselves. A few just seemed confused, caught off guard, heads turned towards the manor in bewilderment. Some had been caught running, panic permanently etched into their faces.

Hundreds of innocent lives, snuffed out like the flame on a candle.

And it was _all his fault._

The spirits had to force their legs to move as they crept through the town; the only thing keeping them from turning back was the knowledge that _she_ was somewhere behind them. It wasn't much of a mystery why this had happened. They had done something, back when they were one person, something that made her mad. She'd always had a fiery temper despite her magic leaning more towards the colder side, and it wasn't uncommon for her to end up freezing a few things during one of her outbursts. He'd grown to expect it.

But _this?_

Turning the entire village, maybe even the whole of Subcon, into an icebox? Plunging it into a seemingly endless winter, killing her own subjects in literal cold blood?

Never, not in tens of thousands of years, could he have ever expected her to go _this_ far off the deep end.

He must've screwed up _unbelievably massively_ , to compel her to do _this_.

Both ghosts paused when they reached the town square. Here, the frozen people were spaced apart more, no longer confined to the narrow streets. Only a couple of them were looking in the direction of the mansion, surprised rather than frightened. The rest remained blissfully unaware, smiling and laughing at each other, not a care in the world. The blue phantom had to choke back yet another sob at the sight of three very small figures caught in what seemed to be a game of tag, grins broad and bright on their faces.

Oddest of all, however, were the beings gathered in the center of the square, next to the iced-over fountain. They weren't very big, only about the size of a small child. They had long, brightly colored serpentine bodies, which trailed behind them like the tails of comets. All of them wore some kind of mask; some like woodland critters, some like crying faces, some like demons with long horns. They didn't seem to have noticed the ghosts.

"What _are_ they?" the shadow whispered, not wanting to alert them.

"Dwellers," the blue specter answered. "The spirits of those too weak or confused to pass into the afterlife. They're believed to most commonly be the souls of young children, ones without a proper grasp on the concept of death. Since they don't understand it, they don't realize what it means to die, which leaves them unable to move on." He gave the shade a puzzled look. "Shouldn't you know this?"

The darker spirit flushed slightly. "Well- I- I-it sounds familiar, that's for sure," he retorted. "But peck if I know why."

"Language," his counterpart scolded, then rolled his eyes. "Great. So not only does it seem that our soul has somehow been split in half, our memories have been too. Which is probably why for the life - er, death? - of me that I can't remember my name. Our name? I don't know, this is all really confusing."

The purple ghost opened his mouth, but closed it again at the movement from beside the fountain. The Dwellers were watching.

The two apparitions exchanged a glance. "Um... Hello there," the lighter one said softly, taking a cautious step forward.

The Dwellers promptly shot off in all directions.

"Whoa- Wait!" the shade called after them, both ghosts running further into the square. "It's okay! We're not gonna hurt you!"

"Please, please come back!" the blue spirit added, his tone akin to a parent calling for a lost child. "It's not safe out here! I-it's cold, and dark, and _s_ _h-she_ might find you!"

For a few minutes, the only response was the wind howling back at them and the echoes of their calls. The lighter phantom clapped a hand over his face. "Urgh, what was I _thinking?!?_ 'It's cold?' REALLY? They're ghosts, they don't get cold!"

"Yeah, and nice job adding in that _she's_ out there, genius," his dark dopplegänger snorted. "Probably got 'em all running for the nearest hole to hide in for the next hundred years."

The blue specter shot him a glare, but a flicker of color out of the corner of his eye made him turn. A green Dweller wearing a fox mask was hovering just a few feet from him, looking at him with a mix of apprehension, curiosity, and a very vague, very small pinch of recognition in the glowing dots of its eyes. He gave it a gentle, welcoming smile, passively holding out a hand like one would do to a dog. "Hey... It's okay," he said softly. "It's alright. I won't harm you."

Slowly, the Dweller floated over, much like a snake swimming through the air. Its eyes kept darting between the taller spirit, his outstretched hand, and the shadow discreetly creeping up behind him - not in a threatening manner, just to get closer without scaring the smaller being off. The tip of the mask's nose lightly bumped the red-coated ghost's fingers, and for a moment the Dweller flinched back; but when no harm came to it, it began to loop around his arm like a bracelet, then over his shoulders and around his neck. It did the same to the purple specter, its eyes carefully watching their faces all the while, trying to see them from every angle.

The phantoms couldn't help but chuckle at the serpentine spirit's antics, their own eyes watching as it made its final loop and move to float in front of them. They hadn't realized it until now, but at least twenty other Dwellers had come out of hiding and were now hovering silently all around them.

Then, in a very hushed, very scared voice, hoarse from disuse, the fox-masked Dweller spoke - not with words, but with feelings.

_"Prince Lukas?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't clear by now, there's gonna be a LOT of headcanons in this fic. Hope you enjoyed, my internet has been dipping in and out for the past two days and I had to wait like five hours after writing this chapter before I could post it.


	3. Blowing Up Bridges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A reunion, and an escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is using a variation of "Luke" as the Prince's name extremely boring and predictable and uncreative by this point? Yes. Yes, it is.
> 
> Was I able to come up with something better? No. No, I wasn't. Besides, I just flat-out like that name for him.

Lukas. Right. THAT was his name. Prince Lukas Alistair Columbine. Elegant yet simple, fairly lengthy yet easy to say and remember. Like any good royal name, really.

But, if there were two of him now... which one would get it?

Something to figure out later. For now, the two ghosts were occupied with the Dwellers, which were swarming around them, quietly and frantically asking what had happened, what _was_ happening, why they were like this, why there were two Prince Lukases instead of just one, why-

"Young ones, please, settle down!" the blue ghost exclaimed, trying to calm them. "You'll wear yourselves out with all these questions!"

The shadow barked a laugh as his counterpart failed to soothe the smaller spirits. "Looks like you didn't get the air of authority after all, eh?" he said, elbowing the lighter ghost in the ribs. "Don't worry, I got this." He cleared his throat, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Hey, everybody calm down!" he yelled, voice firm and commanding, yet still with a hint of gentleness to it (these _were_ children, after all). Instantly, the Dwellers halted their excitement, glowing dot eyes looking to the princely phantoms. "You're welcome," the darker smirked, folding his arms.

The fox-masked Dweller from before appeared again. _"P-Prince Lukas, what happened?"_ they asked timidly. _"Why is the village frozen? Wh-why are there two of you?"_

The red-coated specter sighed. "We're not sure, little one," he said softly. "We just know that whatever it was, it has something to do with... _her._ "

The Dweller tilted their head. _"'Her' who?"_

He swallowed nervously. "Th-the queen. _Vanessa_. W-we don't know what or why or how, but something made her mad, and she caused this as a result. And, well, there's no easy way to say this, but..."

"...You all died as a result," the shadow finished. "Everyone did. Even us."

The serpentine ghosts looked confused. A Dweller with a purple cat mask floated forward. _"What does 'died' mean?"_ they asked, with a tone that indicated they already had a feeling it wasn't good.

The bigger spirits exchanged a look of apprehension. How were they supposed to explain that? Dwellers already inherently existed because they didn't properly know what death was; how were they supposed to understand it now?

Another thing to figure out later, because at that exact moment the already freezing cold air became several degrees colder. From somewhere behind them, the ghosts felt piercing red eyes on their backs, and both instinctively tensed.

"She's coming," they whispered simultaneously.

The Dwellers all looked at each other, not understanding the fear of their prince(s?), but then the blue ghost spoke again. "A-alright, everyone, I know you still don't know what's going on, but I promise, we'll explain later. For now, we need you all to follow us to the forest as quickly as you can."

"Round up any other Dwellers you find on the way there," added the shadow. "All of us need to get out of here."

The Dwellers, though still clearly filled with questions, nodded. The princely phantoms took off running, the spirits like masked snakes trailing in the air close behind them. A few of the small ghosts split off from the rest and flew to other parts of the village, doing as the purple specter had said. The ones that remained followed their prince(s?) to the stone bridge that connected town to the forest. The crevice running between the two seemed deeper than before, the river at the bottom frozen over.

The Dwellers were fully prepared to continue on into the woods, but the violet ghost stopped them. "We have to wait for the others," he said, ignoring how desperately he, too, wanted to keep running. _She_ was still coming, she still knew where they were. They had to get away, but not like this. Not while there were still souls left behind.

A real prince would never abandon his people.

A few minutes-that-felt-like-hours later, several more Dwellers came flying through the snow, looking far more panicked than the ones already over the bridge. It didn't take long to figure out why, as a pair of glowing, ruby-red eyes soon appeared behind them. Fear, pure and raw, struck the ghosts at the sight of them. The Dwellers were still too far, and _she_ was moving too fast. She'd reach them first. She'd hurt them again.

They couldn't - they _wouldn't_ \- let her.

"Get AWAY from us!" the purple ghost shouted, sweeping his arm defiantly.

"Leave us ALONE!" the blue ghost yelled, one hand reaching out helplessly towards the Dwellers.

Everything happened at once. Crimson strings shot from the blue ghost's fingertips and raced to the Dwellers, wrapping around them and yanking them back towards him. Meanwhile, a wave of multicolored fire appeared where the shadow's arm had been, blazing forward seemingly of its own accord. The Dwellers wrapped in string passed over the bridge just as the fire touched the stone-

And the bridge exploded.

It was more like a column of fire, bright and colorful, erupting out of the stone. The phantoms each threw up an arm to shield their eyes, the Dwellers doing the same with their tails. There was a distorted cry from the other side, and several small things hit the red-coated ghost's chest. The sound of stone breaking was almost completely drowned out by the loud _woosh_ ing of the fire.

When the light died, each spirit opened their eyes and looked. The bridge was destroyed, nothing more than two short pieces clinging to either side of the crevice, a gap too wide to cross between them. The straggler Dwellers were now tucked against the blue ghost's chest, wide eyes darting between him, each other, and what remained of the bridge. On the other side, a hunched-over silhouette stood, hair wild and tangled, completely black and featureless save for its glowing red eyes.

The princely phantoms looked at each other, then at their hands. What... What had _that_ been? Magic? But they hadn't been magically gifted when they were alive. How...

They looked back up. _She_ was still watching them. Her face could no longer be read, but they could tell she was furious. Furious and slightly confused.

Well, too bad. That was _her_ problem, not theirs.

Wordlessly, the princely phantoms turned and walked into the forest, not even sparing her a backwards glance. The Dwellers followed after them, silently noting the lack of footprints left by the larger ghosts.

For far too long, they could still feel her gaze on their backs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun name facts: "Lukas" means "light," and "Alistair" is an anglicization of the Scottish Gaelic form of "Alexander," meaning "defender, protector of man". The columbine is a kind of flower that, in some circles, is associated with foolishness, yet symbolic of a resolve to win in others. I thought putting some meaning behind an unnecessarily long and fancy name would help make up for my lack of creativity when it comes to the first name.
> 
> And if those aren't the definitions that pop up when you search them online, please keep in mind that they were what Google told me. I don't know things!


	4. A Sliver of Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A most unusual being is met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if updates get scarce from here on out. The combination of writer's block and me putting all my energy and focus into my other fanfic, Dragonblood, means that by the time I try to write here I'm all burnt out (which you can probably tell by the difference in writing quality). Just hang in there, I promise I won't let this story go five years without an update. In the meantime, feel free to check out Dragonblood if you want! ~~Don't mind me just shamelessly self-promoting there.~~

The initial plan was to leave Subcon entirely. Walk to the edge of the woods, where _her_ power couldn't reach. Step out of the unforgiving snow and eerie shadows and into the welcoming warmth of the sun. Find somewhere new to call home, far from _her_ and all she'd done.

This idea was stopped dead in its tracks (no pun intended) when the Dwellers hit a barrier. Just along the treeline, only a few feet from freedom, it was as if an invisible wall had sprung up with the intent of keeping the serpentine spirits confined to the forest. The bigger ghosts could leave just fine, it was only the Dwellers who remained trapped.

Really, it would've been so easy to just walk on and leave them there. The thought very briefly crossed the phantom princes' minds, but they dismissed it immediately. A real prince never abandons his people. That's why, instead, they turned around, walking back into the frozen forest, Dwellers following close behind.

Their new home would be here, then. In the forest, just across from _her_. At least she was trapped on the other side of bridge.

_But for how long?_

They decided not to think about it. If they were going to establish a new home, they needed a good place to start. One of the Dwellers had suggested a huge hollow tree they used to play in with their friends, so that's where the spirits were heading.

Or, rather, it was where they _had_ been heading, up until the spectral regents' debate over which of them would get to be called "Lukas" had dissolved into a full-blown argument. An argument neither of them seemed to be winning, but both of them refused to back down from.

Comes with being a lawyer, I suppose.

"Look, for the last time, I'M the one who even remembered it!" the purple ghost shouted, stomping his foot. "And you know the saying: finders keepers, losers weepers!"

"'Finders keepers?' It's a NAME!" retaliated his counterpart. "Just for saying that, I should get it! It'd make up for forgetting it in the first place!"

"Have you even seen yourself? You got all our physical features! I'm nothing but a vaguely Lukas-shaped shadow! I should get the name to make us even!"

"If I look like him, then I'll be what comes to mind when people think about him! Therefore, I deserve to be referred to the same way!"

Eyes narrowed, the shade opened his mouth, the golden glow within seeming to intensify. However, whatever he was going to say was cut off by a maniacal, high-pitched giggle from somewhere overhead. Hearing it, the surrounding Dwellers immediately darted towards their princes, huddling around them fearfully. Their fight forgotten, the royal ghosts snapped into protective stances, hands balled into fists, glaring furiously at the surrounding trees. "Who's there? Show yourself!" the darker demanded.

The giggling only intensified. It was a minute or two before they saw it. A figure, shaped like some sort of bipedal fox or feline, laying on its stomach on the branch of a nearby pine. The being was completely white, as featureless as the shadow, with two thin rings as white as its body in its otherwise completely black eyes. It appeared to be wearing a top hat and a scarf, but as the shapes of the clothes were as blank as the rest of it, it was difficult to tell. Its ears and tail were large and looked very fluffy, and it had additional tufts approximately where its elbows would be. One hand tipped with small claws covered its mouth, but did little to stop the creature's laughter.

The spirits could only watch, perplexed by this strange being, as its snickers grew into full-blown cackles. Its voice was loud and shrill, with a faint, crazed edge and a slight echo to it. The entity had dropped its arm and crossed it over the other, revealing an empty void in its mouth, the alabaster silhouettes of two vampiric fangs and a pair of upwards-pointing arrow shapes lying within. Its bushy tail was wagging faster than the flakes falling around them - so fast, in fact, that it was brushing snow off the trunk behind it.

Finally, the creature stopped laughing, wiping a nonexistent tear from its eye. "Hoo, sorry, but you folks really cracked me up there!" it exclaimed. "Haven't had a good chuckle like that in ages! Not since ol' Sandy said he was gonna stop eatin' people an' go into the sellin' game, anyway." It - or rather, he, the spectral regents somehow instinctively knew - smirked down at the group of ghosts, propping up one elbow and resting his head in his hand.

The red-coated spirit took a tentative step forward. "Who... _What_ are you?" he asked warily.

"And more importantly," growled his dark dopplegänger, a small spark of the magical multicolored fire already forming at his fingertips, " _what_ are you doing in our forest?"

The white creature chuckled. "Ah, yes, how rude of me to not introduce myself. An' in the presence of royalty, too!" He feigned a gasp of shock. "My sincerest apologies, Your Royal Hignesses."

His supposed embarrassment was betrayed by the obvious sarcasm in his voice. The princely phantoms both glared as the being casually leaned over and fell off the branch, an umbrella the same stark white as his body materializing out of thin air in his hand and opening to slow his descent. He landed silently in the snow, the parasol dissipating in a shower of black four-pointed stars outlined in white; bowing with one arm across his chest, he lifted his hat in greeting. "The name's Sliver. Sliver Sylvur, if you're feelin' formal. Which I suppose the two of you would, eh?"

The royal revenants exchanged a befuddled look as Sliver straightened up and grinned broadly at them, hands behind his back. He blended into the environment rather oddly; rather than a three-dimensional being, he was more like a moving hole in reality, a fox/cat-shaped rift into an empty, blank void. The snow around his feet showed no signs of being disturbed; against the surrounding whiteness, a mysterious black outline appeared from nowhere. It was like he wasn't even on the same plane of existence as the rest of them. Whatever he was, it wasn't something either of the ghosts could recall.

Determined to know, the purple specter spoke again. "Okay, so you've introduced yourself. Big whoop. That still doesn't answer what you are and what you're doing here."

"A-are you..." The lighter spirit swallowed, noting how well Sliver blended in with the snow around them, and recalling a memory of a book he'd read long ago. "Are you some kind of Snow Spirit?"

The Dwellers began to stir nervously, and apprehension crossed even the shadow's face for a brief moment. None of them really wanted to deal with something that could have potentially been sent by _her_. Luckily, Sliver immediately rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Tch, no, an' frankly I'm disgusted by the notion!" he said. "No self-respectin' Spirit with a single shred of sanity or dignity to spare would be caught dead anywhere near one of those Elemental losers! No pun intended." He chuckled lightly at his own joke, only serving to further irritate the ghosts.

"Nonono, I'm what you no-longer-quite-so-mortal folk might call a Moon Spirit." Sliver summoned his umbrella again, casually leaning against it. "We're basically bein's of pure moonlight that come on down whenever the moon shines on a place with a heckton of magic in it. Subcon here's been fairly docile for the past several thousand years or so, but a couple weeks ago our readin's suddenly spiked up; next thing we know, the whole darn place is a winter wonderland! So they sent me down to check what's up." He surveyed the frozen landscape, his grin finally dropping. "An' from what I've seen so far, this is very much a case of a stone-cold heart freezin' over."

The spectral reagents looked away, one rubbing his arm, the other the back of his neck. Sliver inhaled through his teeth. "Oof. Touchy subject there, huh? Sorry, didn't know. Eh, we can talk about it later. In the meantime, I think I might be able to help y'all."

The ghosts looked back up. "Huh?" they asked simultaneously.

"Ah, y'know, with yer mysterious powers an' buildin' a new home an' junk. Us Moon Spirits just _love_ helpin' mortal folks, an' no-longer-mortal folks are even better! Sure, we can be a little rough 'round the edges - or so we've been told before - but I give ya my honest word as a Sylvur that I've never had a dissatisfied customer! Well, except for the ones that try to blame me whenever they do somethin' stupid an' die, but y'all are already dead anyway."

The phantom princes glanced at each other uncertainly. Sliver was rather uncomfortably reminding the two of them of a story about a demon who sweet-talked a human boy into selling his soul to it. It was an old legend passed down through generations as a way to warn children of the dangers of talking to strangers. One of the Dwellers, having heard the tale themselves, floated forwards cautiously. _"P-Prince Lukases, I-I don't think you should trust this guy,"_ they whispered. _"H-he doesn't sound like a very nice person."_

"Aw, come on, kid, that's hardly fair," said Sliver. "Ya don't even know me! I'm one of the nicest, most trustworthy Moon Spirits around! Look look look, I'll prove it to ya! You two, yer havin' trouble decidin' who gets the first name, right? Well, worry no longer, I'll settle that for ya right here right now!"

Before either of the royal spirits could say anything, Sliver was already pointing his umbrella between the two of them. "Eenie, meanie, miney... You. You get to be Lukas. There, saved y'all a whole mess of time, yer welcome."

"YES!" cheered the shadow. "You know what, Sliver, you're okay in my book."

"Aw, ya flatter me, really."

"Oh come on, how was THAT fair?!?" the blue specter demanded. "He didn't even go through the whole poem!"

"Eh, I always thought the whole thing took too long," the Moon Spirit said with a shrug. "I like to keep that kinda stuff short an' sweet, y'know?"

"Suck it up, _Alistair_ , it's my name now!" laughed the newly-christened Lukas, throwing an arm around his counterpart. "And as my first act as King Lukas of Subcon Forest, I hearby declare Sliver Sylvur the official royal advisor!"

"Why thank you, _King Lukas_ ," Sliver said, grabbing the hands of both ghosts and shaking them vigorously. "I promise that I won't disappoint ya! An' that goes double for you, _King Alistair_ ," he added mischievously.

The one apparently now known as Alistair rolled his eyes and sighed. Apparently he'd gotten all the sense of caution when their soul split up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Sliver's based on that mysterious image of the white fox-cat-thing labelled "Moonjumper" in the game's files. I know a lot of people think of it as being an alternate form of Moonjumper, but IDK, that always seemed kinda far-fetched to me. To me it looks a bit more like something that would simply be associated with MJ, like Snatcher and his minions.
> 
> I know my description of how he moves sounds confusing, so I'll put it like this. You know how in the cartoon _Chowder_ , they use the [Unmoving Plaid](https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/UnmovingPlaid) animation technique on the characters' clothes and certain other textures? Sliver's whole body is like that, save for his eyes and mouth. The black outline only appears against a white background, BTW.
> 
> Should probably also point out: That's not a Conductor-esque accent, he just can't be bothered to finish certain words.


End file.
